


Stephanie's Life with Criminal Minds

by StephanieDerekCallen



Category: Criminal Minds, Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3063617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StephanieDerekCallen/pseuds/StephanieDerekCallen





	1. Chapter 1

I am Stephanie Plum. I am a Navy SEAL. I am 22. I was in the CIA until last year. I was a prosecutor too.  I am the highest belt you can get in judo, karate, hapkido, wushu, eskrima, jiu-jitsu, Brazilian jui-jitsu, I am very skilled in kickboxing, aikido, wing chun, jeet kune do, western boxing, keysi fighting method, krav maga, and firearms. I am an accomplished lip reader and skilled in forensics and morse-code. I can speak Italian, Russian, Spanish, German, French, Persian, Portuguese, Hebrew, Estonian, Chinese, Sinhalese, Turkish, Swedish, Japanese, Danish, Korean, Arabic, Farsi, Romanian, Polish, Mexican Spanish, Czech, Chechen, Mandarin, Hungarian, and Pashto. I have a condition called hyperthymesia. That is where you can remember everyday of your life in perfect detail and public events. I can read 20,000 words per minute. While in the SEALs, I had dealings with the Kidon unit of Mossad. While in the Navy, I served in Bosnia, Afghanistan, and Iraq. While on a mission in Bosnia, me and another member of my squad Dickerson were captured and tortured before being buried alive. Prior to his burial Dickerson was shot and died of his wound during captivity. I was ultimately rescued by other members of the team. On two separate occasions, My life was saved by Leroy Jethro Gibbs once in Serbia and once in Russia. I sometimes have a gruff, no nonsense temperament. I can do anything and everything with computers. I work for a security company and I am a Bounty Hunter. I am extremely rich. The security company is owned by a really good friend. None of my friends here in New Jersey know I am in the Navy or I was a CIA agent. I am at the office. I see Ranger walking toward me and my cell phone rings. I answer.

 

"Hello? Yes, sir....Yes, sir...I understand....I will be there...." I say and hang up as Ranger gets to me.

 

"I have to go. I have an emergency out of state," I say.

 

"What's going on?" he asks as I start writing on some paper.

 

"If you don't hear from me in a month call this number," I say.

 

I get up. I kiss him and run out. I drive to a empty parking lot and switch cars. I am in my black Lamborghini. I pull out. I a driving down the road and see a black SUV following me. I know it is Rangeman. I drive around and lose them. I drive to one of my houses. I go in. I hang out until 3:00 a.m. I drive to a office. I pull up. My old friend Jason pulls up. He is a SEAL too. We walk in and Savannah one of our tech's is waiting for us.

 

"What's going on?" I ask.

 

"Where's Hudson?" Jason asks.

 

"He asked me to brief you. Have you heard from David?" Savannah asks.

 

"No," Jason says.

 

At that moment, David opens the patio-door.

 

"What's up? - Besides us at 3:30 in the morning?" David asks.

 

"We're going tactical now. I'll brief you in the armory. Let's go," Savannah says.

 

She hurries down the hallway- we follow.

 

"Wait a minute. Where-where is Hudson?" David asks.

 

"Please, stop asking me that," she says.

 

"Then brief us!" I yell.

 

"As of 72 hours ago, Navy SEAL Samantha Mason disappeared into the mountains east of Khost, Afghanistan," Savannah says.

 

David and Samantha are sort of dating. She stops in front of a monitor in the armory.

 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. What do you mean "disappeared"?" David asks.

 

"There is a strong likelihood she's being held by a group of Taliban fighters believed responsible for attacking U.S. military out of Camp Chapman," Savannah says.

 

"Why isn't Hudson here?" David asks.

 

"David," I say giving him a sharp look.

 

"Assistant Director Owen Smith went searching for the group 72 hours ago. 12 hours ago, both the CIA and U.S. military lost all contact with him. You will be briefed on all available intel upon your arrival at Camp Chapman," Savannah says.

 

"We're going to Afghanistan?" David asks.

 

"The mission is to locate and rescue SEAL Mason," Savannah says.

 

"I want to talk to Hudson," I say.

 

"Transport is waiting at Newark. Wheels are up in 20. Grab your weapons and your go-bags. Quickly," Savannah says.

 

I sigh.

 

"Okay, let's move," I say.

 

We leave the armory.

 

~Later~

 

Carrying weapons and go-bags, Jason, David and I are in the hallway – Hudson hails us from the gym.

 

"Lady, Gentlemen," Hudson says.

 

He's standing there, 2 cases on the floor at his feet.

 

"Don't forget your most important weapon. There's a half a million dollars in each case. It was the most I could get given the short notice. Use it to buy information. Put a bounty on their heads. Whatever it takes," he says.

 

"Hudson..." I say.

 

"You're saving a team member, time is of the essence. I need to speak with Ms. Plum for a moment. Would you take these cases?" he says/asks.

 

Jason and David obey; they leave the gym; Hudson sighs.

 

"Mr. James is emotionally involved," he says.

 

"We all are," I say.

 

"Yes, but I'm sure you'll agree his is a different circumstance," she says.

 

"You want me to watch his back," I say.

 

"Quite the opposite. I want you to single-mindedly remained focused on SEAL Mason. If you need to separate Mr. James from the team, do so," he says.

 

"I understand," I say.

 

"I need you to bring her home, Stephanie," he says.

 

"I will," I say.

 

I walk out.

 

~Later~

 

Helicopter blades are whirring- in Afghanistan, outside Camp Chapman.  It lands. David, Jason & I grab our gears and head towards the gate. The ANA officer speaks when we pass him.

 

"I love the sunset in winter from the Santa Monica pier," he says.

 

We stop dead. We turn and walk toward him.

 

"My father used to take me on Christmas evening to see it," I say.

 

"SEAL Plum," he says.

 

"Who are you?" I ask.

 

"Sergeant Makar, A.N.A. Special Forces. You're to speak to no one on base. No CIA, no military intelligence," he says.

 

"Under whose authority are you addressing us?" Jason asks.

 

"Owen Smith," he says.

 

"You know where he is?" I ask.

 

"You have to change out of these clothes. Come with me. Quickly," Makar says.

 

"We're supposed to be briefed. Now you're telling me I can't even speak to an intelligence officer? What the hell's going on?" I say/ask.

 

"Welcome to Afghanistan," he says.

 

He goes to a car – we exchange puzzled looks.

 

~Later~

 

Makar stops the vehicle in a village. We are wearing local clothes.

 

"So, now what?" I ask.

 

"Wait here," Makar says.

 

He goes out, closes the door behind him;4 men appear. One of them is hiding his face.

 

"We may have been set up," I say.

 

Our guns click- the man shows his face.

 

"It's Smith," I say.

 

Owen sits down behind the wheel.

 

"I thought you were lost in the desert," Jason says.

 

"Does anybody besides Sergeant Makar know you're here?" Smith asks.

 

"No. Why weren't we briefed?" I say/ask.

 

"I tracked a Taliban courier from the mountains east of here to that house across the street. My assets say the courier's affiliated with the group that's holding SEAL Mason," he says.

 

"Who lives there?" Jason asks.

 

"No idea," Smith says.

 

"That doesn't answer my question," I say.

 

"Do you remember CIA Agent Sabatino?" he asks.

 

I nod.

 

"He and I were part of a task force targeting a man called the White Ghost," Smith says.

 

"Yeah. I read the intelligence reports. He's a Westerner aiding the Taliban," I say.

 

"That was the story. A lot of the intel turned out to be falsified. I suspect the CIA has other reasons for wanting the White Ghost dead," Smith says.

 

"Does Sabatino still want him dead?" I ask.

 

"I don't know. He disappeared three days ago," Smith says.

 

"What does this have to do with Samantha?" David asks.

 

"Hudson had Mason brought in to be the shooter. She acquired the target, and she missed," he says.

 

"You think it was intentional?" I ask.

 

"I know when I'm being played, Plum. Until I figure out what's going on, this mission is dark, as in black as night. We're on our own out here," he says.

 

A man leaves the house across the street.

  
"Is that the courier?" I ask.

 

"Yeah. I got to stay with him, follow him back to the rat's nest," Smith says.

 

"David, you stay here, find out who lives in that house," I say.

 

"What are you talking about? I'm coming with you," he says.

 

"Hey. That's a direct order," I say.

 

I wave.

 

"Leave him with a translator," I say.

 

David goes out of the car; Makar comes close to Smith’s door; the assistant director opens the window.

 

"Stay with him. See who's in the house," Smith says.

 

"Okay," Makar says.

 

The courier starts the engine of a pickup.

 

"He's moving," I say.

 

Smith‘s car starts on its tracks.

 

~Later~

 

Jason and I are watching the pickup through binoculars. The guy stops his vehicle, gets out and…rides a camel.

 

"Looks like he's going off-road," I say.

 

"Terrain's too rough for a truck," Jason says.

 

"Oh, we can't keep up with a camel on foot," I say.

 

"Smith's gonna need to get you a horse, cowgirl," Jason says.

 

"I hate horses," I say.

 

~Later~

 

Horse riders catch up with the camel, alone.

 

"Hold up, there," I say.

 

Men speak Pashto. Jason, Smith and I come carefully closer to the animal.

 

"Courier went through the mountains. Too steep for horses. A lot more men came through here. At least a dozen," I say.

 

"Water's completely gone. We ride any further, and we'll kill the horses," Sajadi a Afghan Sergeant says.

 

"All right, take the horses, bring back supplies and more men. As many as you can get discreetly. We'll head into the mountains on foot," Smith says.

 

A man with all the reins in hands starts riding away. Sajadi and one other man stay with us.

 

"You know, with no water, there's no walking out of here, now," Sajadi says.

 

"We're all aware of the situation," I say.

 

This silences Sajadi.

~Later~

 

We’re walking, following me. I raise a hand, pick up a paper.

 

'MRE. We're close," I say.

 

We step forward and stop: we see a cave’s entrance.

 

"That's the rat's nest," I say.

 

"Let's take it," Smith says.

 

We enter a dark cave – there’s a light, though; at the bottom, a guard. I speak in Pashto, looking in great pain.

 

"I’m hurt. I need help…" I say.

 

The guard steps forwards- I shoot.

 

"Clear," I say.

 

We're in a place with a fire; and a bloody stone.

 

"The courier kept moving, probably towards Pakistan," Smith says.

 

"Steph. Blood. I'll type it," Jason says.

 

There’s a big map on the stone wall.

 

"Tracking U.S. troop movements," Smith says.

 

We hear quick footsteps: Sajadi hurries in.

 

"There's a latrine area outside. It's fresh. From the size, I estimate at least 20 men," Sajadi says.

 

Jason looks at the test card.

 

"Same blood type as Samantha, B-positive," he says.

 

"Nine percent of the population is B-positive. Doesn't mean anything," I say.

 

But Jason obviously does think it means something.

 

We unlock a crate; find a laptop that I open at once; meanwhile Jason and Smith look at saws…bloody saws…I find photos: the first is a bloody man, looking dead with his cut throat.

 

"You know this guy?" I ask.

 

"No," Smith says.

 

The second photo is Samantha. Bloody, cut throat…Jason glances at it, steps away.

 

"I'm not buying it," I say.

 

"Not buying it...or are you not accepting it?" Smith asks.

 

I can’t answer.

 

~Later~

 

We’re all out of the cave. Smith is on the phone. We can hear it in Sat. Coms.

 

"I should have been made aware of your relationship with Jack Simon, and not as the assistant director, but personally. You owed me the truth on this," Smith says.

 

"Owed you the truth? That's a debt you've not paid me tenfold, Owen," Hudson says.

 

"Not in a situation like this," Smith says.

 

"You were part of the team sent to kill Jack Simon," Hudson says.

 

"Maybe he still is. Shouldn't we know that?" I say/ask.

 

"I don't answer to you, Plum. You answer to me," he says.

 

He comes close to me; Jason comes up.

 

"We're deep in the field, Assistant Director," Jason says.

 

"What are you saying?" Smith asks.

 

"What I'm saying...is we stay on mission. I don't buy the photos," Jason says.

 

"I can't find any evidence of Photo shopping," Grayson another tech says.

 

"I don't care. If they know Samantha and Jack Simon are intelligence assets, they could have left the photo to...discourage us from crossing the border into Pakistan," I say.

 

"We keep tracking the courier," Jason says.

 

"There's something else that you should be aware of," Hudson says.

 

"Uh, piecing together intel, I've discovered what I believe is a CIA team seven miles to the north of you, and they've accessed intel on Jack Simon," Savannah says.

 

"They're hunting him," I say.

 

The satellite phone beeps. It says low battery.

 

"Our comm's almost done. This'll be our last communication for a while. You can still track us by GPS," I say.

 

"Then Godspeed. To all of you," Hudson says.

 

"We'll see you on the other side," Smith says.

 

He turns off the phone.

 

"Let's move," Smith says.

 

"We should do a quick search of the area…For bodies," I say.

 

~Later~

 

I find red drops on the ground. I whisper.

 

"Blood," I whisper.

 

We go ahead; quietly; carefully. We spot someone moving behind bushes. I speak in Pashto.

 

" _C_ _ome out with your hands up,"_ I say.

 

A man is on the ground there.

 

" _C_ _ome out with your hands up,"_ I say.

 

The man stands up- steps forwards, limping slightly- he’s carrying a knife. I am surprised; Smith lowers his riffle: Sabatino is standing in front of us.

 

"I could use some water," Sabatino sys.

 

"All out, Sabatino," I say.

 

"That sucks," he says.

 

"Did you see SEAL Mason?" Smith asks.

 

Sabatino shakes the head.

 

"No. I caught up to the Taliban. They shot me," Sabatino says.

 

There’s blood on his hand, coming from his arm.

 

"They headed to Pakistan?" I ask.

 

"Fast. Sure could use a pressure bandage," Sabatino says.

 

"What about Jack Simon?" Jason asks.

 

"Didn't see either of them," Sabatino says.

 

"Don't lie to me. Is Jack Simon the White Ghost?" Smith says/asks.

 

"There is no White Ghost," Sabatino says.

 

Jason and I exchange a look.

 

"That was made up. Jack Simon did some work for us. His only mistake was he ended up knowing the identity of a half a dozen of our assets **.** Jack wanted to stay in country. Only problem is...CIA can't have Jack Simon living in some hut, knowing their names and faces," Sabatino says.

 

"So you're gonna kill him?" Jason asks.

 

"Nah. I wanted to get to him first. Talk him into going back to the U.S," Sabatino says.

 

"What about the CIA team to the north of here?" I ask.

 

"They are here to kill him," Sabatino says.

 

"And they're not gonna give a damn about Samantha," Jason says.

 

"Which is why, we are dark. Give the man a bandage," Smith says.

 

An Afghan man steps towards Sabatino but there’s a gunshot- he falls down. We run to a safe place, carrying the man. Sajadi looks at his wound while Jason, Smith, I start shooting back.

 

"Give me your Sig," Sabatino says.

 

"You got an eye on him?" I ask.

 

"20 feet south of the peak," Jason says.

 

"I'm heading up. Keep him occupied," I say.

 

Smith looks at the Afghan guys…the bloody chest proves there’s no more to do.

 

"Damn it," Smith says.

 

I am on top of the hill; in front of me, the shooter is still replying to Jason's gunshot. I speak in Pashto.

 

 _"Put down your rifle. Put down your rifle!"_ I yell.

 

The shooter obeys; stands up, hands up.

 

 _"Take off your head scarf,"_ I say.

 

It’s a girl.

  
~Later~

 

The girl is sitting on the ground.

 

"Ask her her name," I say.

 

The Afghan soldier asks in Pashto.

 

"Khatira," the girl says.

 

"Khatira. Is your father a member of the Taliban?" I say/ask.

 

The soldier translates; she answers.

 

"Her parents are dead. The Taliban uses orphans like this. Suicide bombers, soldiers, slave labor," the soldier says.

 

"They sent her out here to slow me down. They don't give a damn if she lives or dies," Sabatino says.

 

"Ask her if the Taliban has any American prisoners with them," Smith says.

 

Sajadi translates, she answers in Pashto but we didn’t need translation.

 

 _"No. No Americans,"_ she says.

 

"Doesn't mean anything. She says yes, she says no, we're still going forward," I say.

 

"We have no communication. No water. And we're gonna have to move damn fast to catch the Taliban before they get to the border," Smith says.

 

"What's your point?" Jason asks.

 

"What do you want to do with her?" Smith asks.

 

"We leave her here, she dies of exposure or the Taliban finds her," Jason says.

 

"And she tells them all about us. Position, number of men," Smith says.

 

"We can't leave her alive," Sabatino says.

 

"We're not gonna kill a child," I say.

 

"Plum, why don't you ask your partner what we should do," Smith says.

 

I look at Jason

 

"We'll take her with us," he says.

 

I was waiting for these words.

 

"If she slows us down--and I want you to understand this--you're trading her life for Samantha's," Smith says.

 

"She won't. End of discussion," I say.

 

Jason lifts her up on his shoulder.

 

"75-pound girl across the desert with no water. How long is that gonna last?" Sabatino says/asks.

 

Jason glares at him… We start walking.

 

~Later~

 

Sajadi, Smith and Sabatino are leading the group, climbing a hill. Jason is far behind, I am at his side…In the middle of the climbing, Jason puts the girl back down with a grunt and sighs.

 

"You good?" I ask.

 

"Yeah," he says.

 

Smith crawls to the edge of the hill with Sabatino and watches with binoculars. I catch up with them.

 

"We spotted the Taliban in the valley," Smith says.

 

"How many?" I ask.

 

"35," Smith says.

 

"Way too many to attack," Sabatino says.

 

"What are you suggesting?" I ask angrily.

 

"Well, we don't have much ammo. We're outnumbered seven to one, and he's wounded," Smith says.

 

"I'm not letting them walk into Pakistan," I say.

 

"I'm willing to cross the border. But we're gonna have to wait to attack until the Afghan soldier comes back with more men..." Smith says.

 

"He may not come back. How's he even gonna find us? I'm not waiting," I shout.

 

"It's suicide," Sabatino says.

 

"They cross over that border, Samantha is as good as dead," I say.

 

"She might be already," Smith says.

 

"I'll do it myself if I have to," I say.

 

I know I have fire in my eyes and I am stubborn.

 

"You'll wait. That's an order, Plum. And make no mistake, I'll do whatever it takes to make you wait," he says.

 

I sigh.

 

~A few seconds later~

 

I am back with Jason and the little girl.

 

"We spotted the Taliban. They number about 35. Smith doesn't want to engage," I say.

 

"We're outnumbered, we don't have much ammo. But we've got money," Jason says.

 

I looks at Khatira, then at Jason.

 

"We got to keep moving. Stay with us," Smith says.

 

"Send Sajadi back here," I say.

 

"Go on," Smith says to Sajadi.

 

I open the bills case.

 

"I need you to translate every word I say," I say.

 

Sajadi nods. I hand the girl a wad.

 

"This is 10,000 American dollars," I say.

 

Sajadi translates.

 

"We have 500,000 here," I say.

 

Sajadi translates.

 

"500,000 U.S. dollars for the American prisoners. Do you understand?" I say/ask.

 

Sajadi translates; the girl nods.

 

"We are small in number, but we will pay," I say.

 

"Why would you say that?" Sajadi asks.

 

"Translate!" I say.

 

Sajadi translates.

 

"Take the cash and you deliver the message," I say.

 

Sajadi translates; He helps the girl going back on her feet.

 

"Run, up the next canyon-- fast," I say.

 

Sajadi translates; we look at her, running away.

 

~Later~

 

Khatira is running fast.

 

"Smith? That's our girl," Sabatino says.

 

Smith raises his riffle; he shoots, but the gunshot misses: I have deflected the weapon. Sabatino aims at me but Jason is at his back.

 

"Don't even think about it," Jason says.

 

"Something tells me she didn't escape," Smith says.

 

"I sent her. She's gonna offer money in exchange for the prisoners," I say.

 

"She's going to tell them everything about us--our position, how many men we have," Sabatino says.

 

"It'll at least delay them going into Pakistan," Jason says.

 

"He told her about the rest of the money," Sajadi says.

 

"They'll be coming for us now. But I guess that's what you wanted," Smith says.

 

~Later~

 

Hidden on top of a hill, Jason and I watch the Taliban.

 

"It worked. Here they come," I say.

 

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Jason says.

 

I smirk.

 

"It's time to dig in. Let's get to higher ground," I say.

 

~Later~

 

I hurry back to the “fort” the others are building with stones; I am panting.

 

"They're coming in just from behind me, just north," I say.

 

Sajadi joins us.

 

"They're coming up from the mountain, from the east," Sajadi says.

 

"Sabatino? Here, tag these mags," I say.

 

Jason gives him more.

 

"Here," Jason says.

 

"Here, here," I say.

 

"I see 'em. I got six here. Wait a minute. They're sending the girl back," Smith says.

 

Khatira yells in Pashto.

 

"She says they won't kill us if we give them the money," Sajadi says.

 

"No. The deal is for the American prisoners," Jason says.

 

Sajadi speaks Pashto; Khatira speaks to the Taliban.

 

"She gave 'em the message," I say.

 

There’s a silence…and then a rapid gunfire. Sajadi yells, hit in the leg. Taliban and us shoot at each other; Sajadi is grunting in pain.

 

"Conserve your ammo! Let 'em get closer!" Smith says.

 

Well, they’re already close…I apply a tourniquet around Sajadi’s leg. It hurts a lot.

 

"Look, you keep fighting," I say.

 

I push him backwards.

 

"Keep fighting! Keep shooting! Turn over!" I yell.

 

Bravely Sajadi grabs his riffle.

 

"Nine o'clock!" Sabatino yells.

 

"I got eight over here. It's too many. Sabatino," Smith says.

 

Sabatino starts moving and yells.

 

"I'm hit!" Sabatino yells.

 

"Smith, help him!" I yell.

 

I take Smith’s place.

 

"Hang on! Hold on," Smith yells.

 

The rapid gunfire is heavier than ever; bullets are ricocheting, shell casings clinking.

 

"Ammo's going fast. Reloading," I say.

 

"Maybe we should surrender. We're going to die if we don't," Sabatino says.

 

"They're gonna kill us anyway. We run out of ammo, we got two hands, we got knifes, we keep fighting," Jason says.

 

I pull out a hawk; drive it in the ground.

 

"Hell, yeah. Let 'em come," I say.

 

Gunfire continues. I yell out. I am shot in the leg.

 

"Reloading. Last mag," Sajadi says.

 

More gunfire.

 

"Aah! Ah, it's jammed!" I yell.

 

I spot a man with a rocket launcher – raising it.

 

"Incoming!" I yell.

 

The rocket explodes- we are protecting our heads; it misses the right place where we are; but I hear only muffled sound of groaning and gunfire; and coughing. I hear  muffled yelling.

 

"I'm out of ammo! We should give up! We should give up!" Sajadi yells.

 

I am still hearing muffled, indistinct sound of gunfire and groaning. But Jason hears something else.

 

"You hear that!? Do you hear that?!" Jason yells.

 

Jason hears helicopter blades whirring no far of them. I then hear him clearly.

 

"Do you hear that?" Jason asks.

 

I am listening to the helicopter blades whirring; they’re all listening to them. Makar’s voice echoes.

 

"Rafik Shahidi," Makar says.

 

He’s speaking Pashto over P.A. in the helicopter.

 

"What are they saying?" Jason asks.

 

"They have the father of someone, and they want to do a prisoner exchange," Sajadi says.

 

Makar speaks Pashto; at his side, the Cleric. David too: he watches the Taliban still shooting. One of them yells.

 

" _Cease fire_! _Cease fire!!"_ Rafik yells in Pashto.

 

Makar is still shouting.

 

"They stopped firing. They stopped shooting," I say.

 

Huge relief…that was close…Jason looks at a photo stuck on his wrist: his wife and their daughter. I put pressure on my leg gritting my teeth.

 

"Allahu Akbar," Jason says.

 

He kisses the photo.

 

"Allahu Akbar," he says.

 

He’s exhausted. The chopper has landed. David holds the cleric’s arm. Jason, Smith and I have our weapons ready; we look at the Taliban in front of us, shouting orders.

 

"Let's go," I say.

 

David heads to the Taliban fighters with the cleric. We cross Khatira pushing Samantha back with a rifle – she can barely steps forwards; she has been tortured; Khatira has another rifle – this one against Jack’s back. He’s been tortured too. When they reach us, we pull off the ropes holding the rifles. I pull off Samantha's gag. I am standing on one leg.

 

"You okay?" I ask.

 

"No," she groans.

 

"They beat her up pretty bad," Jack says.

 

"Let's get the other wounded on the chopper. We got another one coming for us," I say.

 

Meanwhile, the Taliban men stop David, grab the cleric, wave to him to go back; they shout orders and run away. David gets back to the chopper; Khatira to the group, dragging the rifles. Smith is speaking on com.

 

"Grandmother, this is Fox Three-Zero, requesting immediate close air support," Smith says.

 

"Roger that," a man says.

 

"Raptor One on station. Standing by for nine line," a second man says.

 

"Copy all, Grandmother, Fox Three-Zero out," Smith says.

 

"You're calling in an air strike on the Taliban?" I ask.

 

"Yeah, they won't make it half a mile," he says.

 

I look at the little girl, alone, following slowly the men. I run on my leg wincing.

 

"Khatira? Khatira? You go with them, you die. Come. Come with me," I say.

 

The first chopper is about to leave with Jack, hugging Kensi; Sajadi; Sabatino…I speak to Makar.

 

"Put her on the chopper," I say.

 

"Plum? That was a good mission," Smith says.

 

"Yeah, it was," I say.

 

We exchange our  first “I-believe-you-thank-you” look.

 

"Let's go. Get 'em out of here," I say.

 

~The Next Day~

 

I have been gone for 3 days. I am back in New Jersey. I decided it is time to show everyone who I really am. I have a bandage wrapped around my leg. I am on crutches. I have to wear shorts. I can't get jeans over my bandage. I turn on my phone and drive to Rangeman. I pull in. I get out and go in. I am using crutches. I ride the elevator up. I go to my office. I sit down. Ranger comes in.

 

"Hey, batman," I say and kiss him.

 

"Babe," he says.

 

He looks at my leg. I sigh and close my eyes.

 

"I, uh, have something to tell you. I am a Navy SEAL. I was in the CIA too," I say.

 

I open my safe. I pull out a picture and a bunch of medals.

 

"What is this?" he asks when I put them down.

 

"While in the CIA I got the Distinguished Intelligence Cross, the Distinguished Intelligence Medal, and the Hostile Action Service Medal. While in the Navy so far I have gotten the Navy Achievement Medal, the Navy Commendation Medal, the Purple Heart, the Silver Star, the Distinguished Service Medal, the Defense Distinguished Service Medal, the Navy Cross, and the Medal of Honor. I, uh, have something else to talk to you about," I say.

 

"What is it?" he asks.

 

I can tell he is angry.

 

"I am moving back to Virginia," I say.

 

He stands up and storms out.

 

"Carlos! Carlos, don't walk away when I am talking to you! You always do!" I yell going after him.

 

Everyone stares at us. He spins on me.

 

"I walk away so I don't say things I don't mean," he says.

 

"I am leaving tonight. I hope you come say goodbye," I say and leave.

 

~Later~

 

I am walking to my car to leave and a black Porche speeds in.

 

"Babe, I am coming with you," he says.

 

I smile and jump into his arms. He kisses me hard and spins me around. We get in our cars and drive to Virginia. I go to my apartment in Quantico. Ranger goes to his across town.

 

~4 years later~

 

Ranger and I are still dating. J.J. has a son. She is dating one of the detectives we met on a case. He moved here. He goes back to New Jersey once a week. I have been working at the BAU for 4 years. I am in court. I am testifying against a man we caught 4 years ago. He went into a coma and just woke up. The defense is questioning me.

 

"Now, my client ran from the police, a behavior that you called a strong indicator of his guilt," the attorney says.

 

"Yes, that's correct," I say.

 

"Were you aware that he had an outstanding warrant at the time of his arrest?" he asks.

 

"Yes. I believe it was for an automobile accident, a hit and run," I say.

 

"So isn't it possible that Mr. Matloff fled not because he was guilty of murder, but because of this other warrant?" he asks.

 

"There were 8 law enforcement officers in bullet proof vests. I doubt any reasonable person would assume--" I say.

 

"A yes or no answer will do," he says.

 

I clench my fists and take a deep breath.

 

"Yes, it's possible," I say.

 

"So, you've stated that it was your profile of the killer that led you and the police to my client's door that night," he says.

 

"Behavioral Analysis was a factor in our investigation, yes," I say.

 

"And was Behavioral Analysis also a factor in the Olympic Park bombings case in Atlanta?" he asks.

 

"Yes, it was," I say.

 

"And was that suspect you identified, Richard Jewell, ever convicted of the bombings?" he asks.

 

"Objection. Relevance," the prosecution says.

 

"Goes to the credibility of the witness and her field," the defense says.

 

"I'll allow it," the judge says.

 

"No, he was not convicted," I say.

 

"Because he was innocent. Your profile led you to the wrong man," the defense says.

 

"Jewell was not the perpetrator, but if you look at the real Olympic Park Bomber, Eric Rudolph, you'll see that our profile was dead on," I say.

 

"Well, how about if we look at the Baton Rouge Killer? Your unit said that he was white and living in the city. He was black and from the suburbs. You said that Dennis Raider, the B.T.K. Killer, was divorced and impotent. He turned out to be married with 2 kids," he says.

 

"Objection, your honor. He's giving a sermon," prosecution says.

 

"Do you have a question in there somewhere, counselor?" the judge asks.

 

"Having been wrong on those cases, isn't it possible that you were wrong about Brian Matloff" the defense asks.

 

"No," I say.

 

"Fact is, Behavioral Analysis is really just intellectual guesswork. You probably couldn't tell me the color of my socks with any greater accuracy than a carnival psychic," he says.

 

"Objection," prosecution says.

 

"Withdrawn," defense says.

 

He starts back to his table.

 

"Charcoal gray," I say.

 

"Well, look at that. She got one right," he says showing his socks.

 

"You match them to color of your suit to appear taller. You also wear lifts and you've had the soles of your shoes replaced. One might think you're frugal, but in fact, you're having financial difficulties. You wear a fake Rolex because you've pawned your real one to pay your debts. My guess is to a bookie," I say.

 

"I took this case pro bono. I am one of the most successful criminal attorneys in the state," he says.

 

I smirk.

 

"Your vice is horses. Your blackberry's been buzzing on the table every 20 minutes, which happens to be the average time between posts from Colonial Downs. Your getting race results. And every time you do, it affects your mood in court, and you're not having a very good day. That's because you pick horses the same way you practice law by always taking the long shot," I say.

 

I glance at Derek who is in the room and he smiles.

 

"Well, you spin a very good yarn, agent, but as usual you have proven nothing," he says.

 

I glance over and see Ranger glaring at Derek.

 

"If I'm not mistaken, the results from the fifth race should be coming through any minute," I say.

 

His phone buzzes. The judge sighs.

 

"Why don't you tell us if your luck has changed?" I ask

 

"Your Honor, this is--" the defense says.

 

"What do you want me to do? Either show us your Blackberry or cut her loose, counselor," the judge says.

 

The defense and I stare each other down. He glances down.

 

"Nothing further," he says and sits down.

 

"Wise decision. Court will be adjourned until 9 a.m. tomorrow," the judge says and bangs the gavel.

 

I stand up and walk out. Derek comes out. He lifts me up and spins me around.

 

"You did great," he says.

 

"Thanks. I have to go," I say.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It is a year later. J.J. isn't working here anymore. I am walking through the office with Garcia.

 

"How's it going, stranger?" she asks.

 

"Oh, I'm a little tired. I went Salsa dancing last night," I say.

  
 Oh, my god, like I need another reason to find you amazing. This call for you from Sean McAllister came to my phone accidently. He sounded very hot and very important," she says handing me a piece of paper.

 

"Did he leave a message?" I ask.

 

Sean was one of my bosses at the CIA.

 

"No. But it's from Paris. A Scottish guy calling from Paris. Know this, Stephanie---even if he is ugly, Scottish guys are hot. It's the accent," she says.

 

"I'll keep that in mind," I say absent mindedly.

 

"So, what's the skinny? Is he a ex? International booty call?" she asks as we walk into the conference room.

 

Derek looks at me surprised.

 

"No. He's a friend," I say.

 

"Where's Seaver?" Rossi asks.

 

"She had to take a test at the academy," I say.

 

"I know we've all seen the news. Mass murder in Miles City, Montana. 6 people shot and killed at a gas station," Hotch says passing out files and tablets.

 

"Robbery?" I ask.

 

"No apparent motive," Rossi says.

 

"Any security footage?" Reid asks.

 

"No. No cameras, no witnesses, ballistics say we're looking at two shooters," Hotch says.

 

"Well, something at the station must have triggered them. It doesn't look like they had much of a plan," Derek says.

 

"And it may happen again. Spree killers often repeat themselves," Rossi says.

  
~Later~

 

We are at a crime scene. We pull up and get out. I am wearing

 

"I'm sorry to reroute you to Billings, but last night this went down," a woman says.

 

"Have you released a statement to the press?" Hotch asks.

 

"No, but it's already hit the air," she says.

 

"Where's the car they dumped?" Derek asks.

 

"It's over there. Agents are searching it now. One of the vics said the shooters were a male and a female," she says.

 

"How many people were murdered here?" I ask.

 

"8. And if you add the Mile City killings, we're up to 14," she says.

 

"Male-female teams are usually committed to pleasing each other, both mentally and physically," I say.

 

"These guys are thrill killers. They're aroused by the adrenaline rush. So they're not gonna stop until we catch them," Derek says.

 

"So this is just foreplay," Rossi says.

 

~Later~

 

Reid and I walk into the morgue.

 

"I mean, I've seen dead bodies before, but this is insane. They're like Bonnie and Clyde. They smashed one guys vertebrae so bad, it looked like a derailed train," one of the guys says.

 

"Extreme brutality to this degree is what's known as an obliteration attack. The unsub wants to completely erase these victims from existence," Reid says.

 

We go over to one of the bodies and the guy pulls the sheet back.

 

"Both of the vics were shot at point-blank range," the guy says.

 

"What made those?" Reid asks.

 

He points at some wounds.

 

"That was a crowbar," the guy says.

 

He pulls out another body.

 

"The unsubs are becoming more and more confident, which means their weapons are becoming more and more personal. The excitement of brutality allows them to over come their human inhibitions. Why is this one covered?" Reid says/asks.

 

"It's the store clerk. They got him pretty bad," the guy says.

 

"In medieval times, it would just be another Monday," I say.

 

"He was sodomized with a tire iron," the guy says.

 

"That kind of overkill suggests he was the root of their aggression. Maybe their zeroing in on what's really pissing them off," I say looking at Reid.

 

Reid and I go back. Reid, Rossi, and I walk over to Derek and Hotch as Derek finishes talking to Pen.

 

"All right. Send over all of the names of the suspects with their ages, Garcia," he says.

 

"Lover, they're already sent. Check your phones," she says.

 

"So you think they're newlyweds?" I ask.

 

"Well, there was rice all over the crime scene, and a bunch of alcohol was missing from the store," Derek says.

 

"So they're on their honeymoon," I say.

 

"What did you find out from the M.E.?" Hoch asks.

 

"Overkill on the store clerk and sodomy--object penetration," I say.

 

"Garcia, last 30 days, check any store clerks killed in the states east of Montana," Hotch says.

 

"Wow. Uh, there was a savagely beaten store clerk outside of Jamestown at the beginning of the month, and then another one 2 days later in Bowman, North Dakota," she says.

 

"That's probably where they started," Derek says.

 

"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch says and hangs up.

 

~The Next Morning~

 

We are at a crime scene.

 

"This is 100 miles west of the last gas station," Derek says.

 

His arm is around my shoulders.

 

"We anticipated them hitting this area, but not here," I say.

 

"Maybe this guy tried to have sex with one of our unsubs while the other one was inside," he says.

 

"Cheating on your honeymoon. Someone's got a twisted sense of commitment," I say.

 

We go inside. We walk up to Hotch, Reid, and Rossi as Rossi is talking.

 

"From the looks of it, at least one of the unsubs shot from up front," he says.

 

"Well, if the meeting started at 8:00, and this happened at 8:45, they were probably at the sharing portion of the meeting," I say.

 

"So maybe they didn't come in here to kill," Derek says.

 

"You know, what if they really are struggling with sobriety? If they're really working the program, they could be working on the hardest steps," I say.

 

"Which are?" Hotch asks.

 

"7,8, and 9. Acknowledge your shortcomings, accept responsibility, and make amends. The trouble is, these unsubs already broke one of the most important steps," I say.

 

"What's that?" Derek asks.

 

"The thirteenth step. Members aren't supposed to enter relationships with each other while trying to get sober," I say.

 

~Later~

 

We are outside at the crime scene. We are giving the profile.

 

"We're looking for a young couple from North Dakota, late teens to mid-20s. We believe they may have recently been married. We're seeing that alcohol plays a significant role in these crimes. It's allowing them to kill freely and recklessly," Hotch says.

 

"Our unsubs are killing surrogates who represent those responsible for deep-seated wounds. Now, these two most likely met at alcohol support. And they get a sexual charge out of the kill," Derek says.

 

"The change from gas station to alcohol support meetings suggests one of them might have a slight moral compass that led them to get help," I say.

 

"Ultimately, we believe one of the pair is a sociopath, while the other is a psychopath," Rossi says.

 

"What's really the difference?" one of the women asks.

 

"They're similar pathologies, but a sociopath is less likely to participate in criminal activity and can be lured by a dominant, while a psychopath is a consummate leader and likely to engage and destroy anyone in their way. The most recent attack was 12 hours ago, which means their most likely heading west of Helena and towards Idaho. All surrounding areas should be on alert," Reid says.

 

~A little bit later~

 

I am walking with Hotch and Rossi.

 

"These alcohol support groups are based on anonymity. There'll be no record of who attended the meeting," Hotch says.

 

I take my phone out and hit speed dial.

 

"Garcia, our unsubs attended an alcohol support meeting last night, but they're not from the area. Can you trace who accessed their website yesterday?" I say/ask.

 

I put the phone on speaker.

 

"3 people went to that website, one on a mobile, 2 on DSL," she says.

 

"Cross-check that with a list of anyone married in Montana in the last 2 days," I say.

 

"No, no, I'm coming up empty," she says.

 

"See if anyone on the list who accessed the site is from North Dakota," Rossi says as we stop.

 

"Bingo, baby. Ray Donavan of Devil's Lake," she says.

 

"Ironic," I say.

 

"What's his story?" Hotch asks.

 

"He is 27. He's been in and out of foster care since he was 10. He looks like kind of a lush and a bit of a meanie. He's had 2 DUI's in the last 2 years. He was slapped with a restraining order by an ex-girlfriend," she says.

 

"Sounds like our boy," Rossi says.

 

"What's her name? She might be his partner," I ask/say.

 

"No, she's not. Her name's Amy Wichowsky. She died a year ago of a overdose from a mix of alcohol and heroin," she says.

 

"Garcia, get us the address of the foster home. Somebody there might know something," Hotch says.

 

"Sure. Give me a sec," she says and hangs up.

 

~Later~

 

I walk over to Hotch.

 

"I talked to all 4 of Ray's foster families. They say he was removed from his parents' home because of drugs and abuse," I say.

 

I am holding my phone. I am on the line with Penelope.

 

"Garcia," he says.

 

"Yes?" she asks.

 

"Can we confirm that with the biological family?" he asks.

 

"Ok. I'm gonna patch you through," she says.

 

Nobody answers.

  
~Later~

 

We are at the families house. The dad had been shot and we have the body gone. Derek picks up some bullets from a table. He crouches down beside a chair and the couch.

 

"All right, so Ray must have been sitting right here," Derek says.

 

He points to the chair.

 

"Playing Russian roulette with his dad," he says.

 

"Mr. Donovan was shot from across the room. Ray couldn't have done it sitting there," I say.

 

My cell phone beeps.

 

"Maybe he got mad, went over by the door, shot him from there," he says.

 

I look at the text. It is from Sean.

 

**_We need to_ talk.**

 

"Baby girl," he says.

 

I look at him.

 

"You all right?" he asks.

 

"Yeah. It's nothing. Uh, what if Ray didn't do it at all? What if the girl pulled the trigger?" I say/ask.

 

"Well, why would Ray let her do that? He was the one with the grudge," he asks/says.

 

"Maybe she's the one calling the shots. She's the psychopath," I say.

 

"Well, if she did do it without his consent, they're going to be at odds," he says.

 

"The first marital fight is supposed to be the worst," I say.

 

"Well, it just might be the wedge we need," he says.

 

~Later~

 

We are on the phone with Penelope.

 

"Ok, so, no Ray Donovan filed for a marriage certificate. However, I looked at that list again, and there's a Sydney Manning of Washington State who filed for a marriage certificate 2 days ago in Montana," she says.

 

"Washington State? We profiled North Dakota," Hotch says.

 

"Yes, she's lived in North Dakota for the last 4 years, and it gets better, or worse, rather. It turns out that Sydney was sentenced to mandatory rehab after serving time for a hit and run. During which she was under the influence of alcohol and heroin," she says.

 

"Oh, so she didn't volunteer for alcohol support," I say.

 

"No, she was placed there as part of her parole," she says.

 

"Alcohol and heroin. Isn't that the same combo that Ray's ex O.D.ed on?" I ask.

 

"Yes, it is, my friend," she says.

 

"So both Sydney and the ex have the same vice. Garcia, check to see if there's any Juvie records of the ex we can access," I say.

 

"Amy was pulled out of high school so she could go to rehab for alcohol dependency," she says.

 

"But no mention of heroin?" I ask.

 

"What are you thinking?" Derek asks me.

 

"Psychopaths will destroy anything in their path. What if Amy was in Sydney's way?" I say/ask.

 

"Garcia, where is Sydney Manning's biological family?" Hotch asks.

 

"Spokane, Washington," she says.

 

"And why was she pulled out of her home?" Hotch asks.

 

"Her father was molesting her," she says.

 

"So Ray and Sydney did meet after sharing similar backgrounds in alcohol support," Reid says.

 

"And if they're sticking to the pattern of making amends, Sydney's father's next on the list," I say.

 

"Reid, you stay at the command center in case they double back. The rest of us are going to Spokane," Hotch says.

 

We get in the cars.

  
~Later~

  
Derek and I get out at the Manning house.

 

"May I help you?" a woman asks.

 

She is trimming bushes.

 

"Mrs. Manning, we're with the FBI is your husband home?" Derek says/asks.

 

"He's at work. What is this about?" she says/asks.

 

"Your daughter Sydney...We think she's planning on hurting him," I say.

 

"Sydney? That's Gary's kid. He hasn't seen her in years," she says.

 

"Can you tell us your husband's work address, please?" Derek asks.

 

"Uh, 785 Halbrook Street, off Kirkland Road. He owns a gas station," she says.

 

Derek and I glance at one another.

 

"Thank you," I say.

  
We go back to the car.

 

We pull up as they are coming out the door with a little girl. I am driving. I get out.

 

"Derek, get down! It's them! Get back!" I yell.

 

Sydney shoots. I shoot back getting her in the shoulder. The little girl screams. Ray starts shooting. He pulls her back in taking the little girl with him. I sigh.

  
~Later~

 

Hotch is here. He calls into the station. I am not paying attention to his side of the conversation.

 

"Mel," he says holding the phone out to me.

 

I take it and switch places with him.

 

"Hello, Ray. You know, if you come out, we can get Sydney to the hospital," I say.

 

"She doesn't need a hospital. She's strong," he says.

 

"Don't be stupid," I say.

 

"You don't be stupid. Now get your men out of here so we can continue on as planned," he says.

 

"We can't do that, Ray, and you know it. You got a little girl inside. And god only knows what happened to Sydney's father," I say.

 

"Justice happened to her father," he says.

 

"So he's dead?" I ask.

 

"Damn right he's dead, and his kid's gonna be, too, if you don't get me a car and 2 tickets to Aruba," he says.

 

"All right. Let me see what I can do about that. Is there anything else you need in the mean time?" I say/ask.

 

"Some gauze and some booze. And none of them cheap kinds, either," he says and hangs up.

 

I sigh.

  
~Later~

 

Reid and Rossi pull up and get out.

 

"What did they want?" Rossi asks.

 

"Liquor and tickets to Aruba," I say.

 

"They're delusional," Derek says.

 

"You're not negotiating with them?" a woman asks.

 

"No, but we're gonna let them think we are," Hotch says.

 

~Later~

 

I go up to the door and bang on it. I hold up the bag and the liquor.

 

"Move back!" Ray yells.

 

He moves and grabs the little girl.

 

"Move back or I will kill this girl!" he yells.

 

I start backing up very slowly.

 

"Back off! Back off! I will shoot this kid! Back off! Back!" he yells.

 

I move back. He has he little girl unlock the door. He moves them back. I go up and walk in.

 

"Ray? Take it easy, man," I say.

 

"Uh-huh. Put it down! Put it down," he says.

 

I put it on the counter.

 

"We got you the stuff you asked for. We're working on the rest," I say.

 

"Great," he says.

 

"If you need anything else, you just pick up that phone. It's routed straight to us. You understand?" I say/ask.

 

"I should kill you right now. Back up," he says.

 

"I'm leaving," I say.

 

I walk out. I walk backwards watching as the girl locks the door. I nod at her to assure her.

 

~A few minutes later~

 

The phone rings.

 

"Yeah?" I answer.

 

"Where the hell is our car?" Ray asks.

 

"I need you to listen to me for a second. I know you've had a hard time, with your father and everything that he did to you," I say.

 

"Shut up. You don't know anything about me," he says.

 

"Last year, your ex-girlfriend Amy was murdered. I know that," I say.

 

He is quiet for a minute.

 

"Amy committed suicide," he says.

 

"No, she was killed, Ray," I say.

 

"Nah. Amy O.D.ed on PCP and alcohol," he says.

 

"They found heroin in her system, Ray," I say.

 

He scoffs.

 

"Amy never did heroin," he says.

 

"Exactly. Because someone gave it to her. Why don't you ask Sydney about it?" I say.

 

"Why? What does she--What does she have to do with this?" he asks.

 

"Come on, man. Think for a second. Sydney join alcohol support right after you and Amy broke up. She could see you still had feelings for Amy, so Sydney needed Amy out of the way," I say.

 

"You're out of line, Pal," he says.

 

"Then ask her. But I guarantee when you do, she's not gonna answer you. She's only gonna question you back, Ray," I say.

 

"What are you talking about?" he asks.

 

"Sydney is the one who gave Amy that heroin. Ask her," I say.

 

He stays quiet.

 

"Ask her. Get her to come clean," I say.

 

"Did you give Amy heroin?" I hear him ask her.

 

"Baby, what are you talking about? I love you," she asks/says.

 

"Listen--" he says.

 

"There, you see that, Ray? We call that structural deception. She doesn't want to answer your question. She's only buying herself some time so she can think of something else to say to you," I say.

 

"That's not true," he says.

 

"Ray, Sydney killed Amy. And if you press her, she's probably gonna try and use sexual distraction to get you to change the subject," I say.

 

"Don't you talk about my wife like that," he says.

 

"Sexual distraction, Ray. You gotta listen to me," I say.

 

"No, I'm done listening to you. Now, why don't you get us a car and plane tickets, or I am gonna blow this girl's head off," he says and hangs up.

 

"I think I got through to him. This thing's gonna end," I say to Hotch and Rossi.

 

"He's gonna ask her again. He has to," Rossi says.

 

"The kid's our only priority," Hotch says.

 

~A few minutes later~

 

"What's happening in there? Hotch asks.

 

"Ray's pacing," Rossi says.

 

"That is not good," Derek says.

 

~A little while later~

 

"I see the girl," I say.

 

She is coming to the door.

 

"Where is Sydney and Ray?" Rossi asks.

 

The girl comes out.

 

"Steph, go," Hotch says.

 

I holster my gun. I run up and grab her by the waist. I swing around hiding her behind the wall. Ray in a car crashes through a glass wall. Everyone shoots killing him. Sydney is dead and in the car too.

 

~Later~

 

We are back in Virginia. I go into a restaurant. A man stands up.

 

"Stephanie Plum," he says.

  
We hug. I laugh.

 

"Sean, how are you?" I ask.

 

"Good," he says.

 

We sit down.

 

"So, I was gonna call you back. I just got busy on a case," I say.

 

"I had to be in D.C. anyway. Ian Doyle vanished from prison. CIA and Interpol can't find him," he says.

 

I get a scared look on my face.

 

"What...What are you saying?" I ask.

 

"He's off the grid, Stephanie," he says.

 

"Do you think he's headed here? Am I in danger?" I ask.

 

"We all are," he says.

 

I swallow hard.


End file.
